Reality, The Oppressor's Tongue.

Art, Whose Honesty Must Work Through Artifice, Cannot Avoid Cheating Truth.

I Am The Androgyne, I Am The Living Mind You Fail To Describe In Your Dead Language The Lost Noun, The Verb Surviving Only In The Infinitive The Letters Of My Name Are Written Under The Lids Of The Newborn Child

We Might Possess Every Technological Resource... But If Our Language Is Inadequate, Our Vision Remains Formless, Our Thinking And Feeling Are Still Running In The Old Cycles, Our Process May Be 'revolutionary' But Not Transformative.

Until We Know The Assumptions In Which We Are Drenched, We Cannot Know Ourselves.

The Will To Change Begins In The Body, Not In The Mind.